


Denning

by inexplicifics



Series: Silver and Steel [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Consent, F/M, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M, but a V rather than a triad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics
Summary: Eskel and Amaranth work out how to share time with Geralt, to everyone's pleasure.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher) & Original Female Character(s), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Silver and Steel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614712
Comments: 10
Kudos: 224





	Denning

For the first couple of weeks of this new arrangement, both Amaranth and Eskel are careful to leave the room when the other is having sex with Geralt. They’re not pointed about it, or anything; indeed, Amaranth tends to pat Geralt on whatever part of his body is nearest her and say, “Have fun!” and Eskel likes to leer playfully at both of them before going off to find something else to do.

It’s usually Amaranth leaving, though. Geralt and Eskel both notice that. Geralt asks her about it, rather awkwardly, after about the tenth time (in less than eight days) she’s cheerfully removed herself to give them time together.

“I had you all to myself for nine months,” Amaranth says, shrugging. “It seems only right to give him as much time with you as I can.”

“You don’t...mind?” Geralt says.

Amaranth goes up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I really don’t,” she says. “You love him, and he you; and I want you to be happy. It’s that simple.”

“Hm,” Geralt says, and kisses her.

He really needs to stop trying to predict what Amaranth is going to do or think based on anything but her own actions. He keeps trying to extrapolate from what he knows of _other_ humans, but given the number of domestic disputes he’s been unwilling witness to - either because they’re loud enough for him to hear, or because the people involved choose to have their spat out in the open - he was sort of expecting some level of jealousy. But Amaranth always smells _contented_ when she leaves him and Eskel alone, not unhappy in the least.

...Well, contented and a little lustful.

Eskel has clearly noticed that too, because the next time she rolls off the bed and pats Geralt on the shin on her way out the door, Eskel raises his head from kissing Geralt and says, “Did you want to stick around and watch, packmate?”

Amaranth stops like she’s walked into a wall, and Geralt’s eyebrows go up as he and Eskel _both_ smell the spike of lust that suggestion provokes. “Ah,” she says after a moment. “Not...this time.”

Eskel shrugs and goes back to kissing Geralt as Amaranth leaves, and Geralt decides to think about that _later_ and focuses on kissing Eskel instead, because he _does_ have some grasp of priorities.

Eskel brings it up again that evening, because of course he does. “ _Did_ you want to watch next time, packmate?”

Amaranth, tucked against Geralt comfortably with her head on his shoulder, goes from half-dozing to fully awake without ever shifting a muscle. “That...depends,” she says slowly.

“On?” Eskel asks. He’s lounged back in the battered, hideous, ridiculously comfortable chair on the hearth that he and Geralt regularly wrestle for the right to sit in. Eskel won the last match, and has the chair rocked back on its back legs, balanced perfectly.

“Several things,” Amaranth says, tapping her fingers against Geralt’s chest. “First: Geralt. Do _you_ mind?”

Geralt thinks about it, taking his time; neither of them will rush him. Normally, he would say he doesn’t want _anyone_ watching him take his pleasure with Eskel; certainly they’ve never been prone to making spectacles of themselves outside of this room. The idea of anyone _else_ watching them is not pleasant. But Amaranth...would smell like lust, and contentment, and Geralt’s got nothing to hide from her. He wouldn’t mind her seeing him vulnerable; she already _has_ , after all. “I don’t mind,” he says.

“Alright,” Amaranth says, tapping her forefinger gently against his chest. “Second question: do _you_ want to watch, when it’s me and Geralt, packmate?”

Eskel loses his balance and flails mightily as the chair tries to tip over backwards, ending after a moment’s confusion with the chair on all four legs and himself draped sideways over it. He shifts around carefully until he’s sitting up again. Geralt chuckles. Eskel makes a rude gesture at him. “Yes,” he says, and Geralt can smell the slightly startling wave of lust and excitement rising from his oldest friend. His steel blade, if Geralt wants to be poetic about it, which he mostly doesn’t outside of his own head.

“Alright,” Amaranth says again, and taps her middle finger against Geralt’s chest. “Geralt, do you mind _that_?”

It’s a decent question, the more so since he _is_ possessive of the sounds she makes. He won’t bed her in a town, not where people can hear the beautiful noises that are _his_ to cause, his to cherish. But what’s Geralt’s is Eskel’s, always has been and always will be; it isn’t in him to want to keep anything from Eskel, not really. Eskel could listen, if he wanted to. That would be fine. “I don’t,” he says shortly, and then, thinking about it a little more, “Kind of like it.”

“Huh,” Amaranth says, and nestles a little more thoroughly against him. “Well, alright then. And I don’t think I mind either, so long as it’s Eskel.” She glances over at Eskel. “Mind, I don’t think I’m going to be bedding _you_ any time soon, packmate, no offense meant.”

“Nah, none taken,” Eskel says easily, and then thinks of something that sends a wave of lust-scent through the room. “...Packmate,” he says slowly, “d’you think our White Wolf would like both of us at the same time?”

Geralt goes very still. _Fuck_. At the same time? How would that...could that work? Would he just die of pleasure on the spot? _Fuck_ , he didn’t even know he _could_ want that, and now he wants it more than _breathing_.

Amaranth leans back so she can look up at his expression, and chuckles. “Well, I don’t think I need to ask _Geralt_ how he feels about that,” she says. “Hm. Yes. Actually I think that would probably be very pleasant, packmate; I commend your imagination.”

Eskel unfolds out of the chair and prowls towards the bed, smile turning downright predatory. “Why thank you, my dear packmate. Now how do you think we should go about this?”

“Oh, it’s your idea, you may choreograph - at least the first time,” Amaranth says, and Geralt’s tenuous grip on his self-control snaps. He pulls her close again, into a kiss that’s more teeth than lips, and Amaranth laughs into his mouth and drapes herself over his lap quite happily.

“Fuck,” Eskel says quietly. “That _is_ pretty.”

“Clothes,” Amaranth says, pulling back as far as Geralt will let her. “I do not want to have to repair _another_ tunic because we got too distracted to undress properly.”

“I want to hear that story sometime,” Eskel says as Geralt pushes Amaranth’s tunic up and over her head.

“I think,” Amaranth says, panting as Geralt lays biting kisses down her throat, “that you can probably extrapolate given - oh _fuck_ , Geralt.”

Geralt licks apologetically at the nipple he just bit.

“Yes, I probably can,” Eskel says, and Geralt can hear him rapidly undressing. “Come on, Geralt, let go long enough to get your clothes off; I don’t want to spend tomorrow mending things.”

Geralt growls a little, but he lifts Amaranth off his lap and sets her down gently on the bed beside him, and strips as quickly as he can. Amaranth slips out of her skirt and tosses it off the bed, then props herself up on one elbow and gives Eskel a considering look.

“So, choreography?”

Eskel looks her over thoughtfully, and then looks at Geralt, who grins as hungrily as he can. He’s not picky; anything they want, so long as it ends with all three of them in the bed together, will satisfy him.

“Geralt,” Eskel says slowly, “go back to kissing her.”

Geralt’s not going to object to that. He scoops Amaranth back into his lap, and she laughs and kisses him soundly. Eskel pushes gently on Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt tips backwards, ending sprawled on his back with Amaranth on top of him, making soft happy noises as he kisses her.

He’s a bit distracted by that, and by the scent of her - lavender and sage, joy and lust, one of the two best scent combinations in the world - and therefore is not expecting it when Eskel’s mouth closes over the tip of his prick. He makes a startled noise into Amaranth’s mouth, and she breaks the kiss to look over her shoulder and then rolls entirely off of him - Geralt makes a mournful sound - to get a proper view.

“Fuck, that’s lovely,” Amaranth breathes. She looks from Eskel to Geralt’s face and back again, and then she smiles, crooked and mischievous. “Mind if I get a bit creative, packmate?”

Eskel lifts his head long enough to say, “Not at all,” and Amaranth chuckles and moves carefully up the bed until she’s kneeling above Geralt’s head, facing down his body. Geralt reaches up to grab her hips and pull her down, getting his mouth between her thighs with a growl. She tastes so _good_ , and the noises she makes are so fucking sweet when he does this -

Eskel moans around Geralt’s prick, and pulls off, replacing his mouth with his hand. “Fuck, that is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever _seen_ ,” he rasps.

Amaranth shudders under Geralt’s hands and lets out a gasping moan. “Put your mouth back where it belongs,” she says. “ _Fuck_ , Geralt!”

Eskel laughs and follows orders, and Geralt groans. Wet heat and Eskel’s _tongue_ and the way Amaranth tastes and sounds and the way she shivers under his hands and Eskel’s clever, strong fingers, slick with oil - when did he get the oil? - making their way back behind Geralt’s balls -

It’s overwhelming, almost too good to bear. Geralt would rather like this moment to never end. He could probably die happy like this, surrounded by the scents and sounds of his lovers, drowning in pleasure.

Amaranth comes with an almost musical cry, and Geralt hums in satisfaction and keeps going. Licking, sucking, nibbling, rubbing the rough stubble on his cheeks against the tender skin of her inner thighs - all of it elicits sweet sounds, moans or gasps or shuddering whines, a glorious symphony of sounds. And now Geralt is learning that _Amaranth’s_ sweet sounds, her glorious scent, make _Eskel_ moan around Geralt’s prick, make his steady hands shake, make the smell of lust rise around them until it almost drowns out lavender and sage, silver and steel and oil. It’s a wonderful, dizzying cycle: Geralt wrings a sound out of Amaranth, and Eskel moans in answer, and Geralt himself groans at the vibrations around his prick, and Amaranth whimpers at what that does between _her_ legs, and it builds and builds and builds until _something_ has to break.

The something, apparently, is Eskel’s patience. He pulls away; Geralt makes a protesting noise and lets go of Amaranth to reach out for him.

“Fucking,” Eskel says, not a curse but an order. “We need to be fucking, or I am going to go _mad_.”

It may be the best idea Eskel’s ever had. Geralt gets both hands back on Amaranth’s hips and surges up, and there’s a deeply awkward moment of flailing, and then he’s on his hands and knees above her, and Amaranth is looking up at him with a broad, hungry grin, her hair stuck to her cheeks and throat with sweat, her legs spread wide around his knees. Eskel crowds in behind Geralt, his hands running over Geralt’s back and sides like he can’t bear not to touch for even a second’s space.

“Fucking,” Amaranth says, like she thinks they need prompting, and reaches up to run her fingers through Geralt’s hair, trace the line of his jaw. “My White Wolf, _fuck_ me.”

Geralt kisses her, because if she says anything else he _will_ lose all self-control, and he needs to hold still just a little longer, just long enough for Eskel to sink into him, fast enough that there’s an edge of burn on the pleasure of it, the stretch just shy of pain. Eskel makes an indescribable noise as their hips meet, and bites gently at the back of Geralt’s neck and the line of his shoulders, hands tight on Geralt’s sides.

“ _Now_ fuck her,” he growls, and Geralt does as he’s told.

It’s a sort of glorious torture: when he sinks deep into Amaranth, making her cry out and clutch at his hair and shoulders, Eskel slides almost all the way out of him, and in order to get Eskel properly into him again, hitting that spot that makes Geralt moan, he has to pull almost entirely out of Amaranth, and Eskel is snarling softly in his ear, and everything smells like lust and sex. Geralt loses track of time - of anything outside this bed, this endless moment of pleasure. The world outside this room could catch fire and he wouldn’t even _notice_. Not when Amaranth has gotten one hand down between them and is peaking again, sweet cries like music to his ears, and Eskel is moaning and biting at his shoulders, starting to fuck into him properly now, and even witcher stamina isn’t going to be enough to let Geralt hold out much longer.

Amaranth lets out a particularly lovely cry, and Eskel swears and grabs Geralt’s hips hard enough to bruise and thrusts hard, panting against Geralt’s neck as he comes. Geralt growls and turns his head to kiss Eskel, a rough uncoordinated mashing of lips, braces his knees a little more firmly and lets himself fuck into Amaranth as hard and fast as he wants to. She keens her pleasure, and Geralt spills into her with a low cry of his own, and manages not to collapse atop her by the barest margin.

Eskel mutters an oath and rolls carefully off of Geralt, flopping down on the bed, and Geralt lowers himself a little more carefully down between Amaranth and Eskel. They’re all breathing hard, and everything smells like sweat and spend and lust, and it’s _wonderful_.

For a few minutes, the only sound is their heaving breaths. Finally Amaranth says, “Huh. We should do that again.”

“For fuck’s sake, woman,” Eskel croaks. “I couldn’t get it up again right now if you _paid_ me.”

“Not _now_ ,” Amaranth says, laughing, and rolls over to sling an arm over Geralt’s chest and press a kiss to his shoulder. Geralt turns his head to nuzzle at her hair, and gropes blindly with his free hand until he manages to find Eskel, looping his fingers loosely around Eskel’s wrist. “But at some point. Possibly frequently.”

“Good idea,” Geralt says. He _definitely_ wants this again. His steel blade and his silver, his two lovers both touching him, both sounding so happy, both smelling so _good_ \- he wants this every day he can possibly have it.

“Yeah, alright,” Eskel says, and shifts closer until he’s skin-to-skin with Geralt, their sides pressed together from shoulder to shin. “Frequently. We can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still got no explanation for any of this.
> 
> No beta for this one.


End file.
